Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant TashaFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 9 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 110 Deviations 1,718 Comments 19,043 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
talk to me as I lay dying
Weak fingers stretch out
grasping at idealistic sorrow that
only exists in fabricated
thoughts
dreams
aspirations
that dried out long ago
shallow breaths skipping
like stones
through time that is borrowed
and running out.
Tell me stories of
how your heart flutters
at the passing of time
inhaling the essence of her skin.
Tell me epics
from the lights that flutter
throughout the oceans of her irises.
Tell me tales
of every scar stained ridge
caressing every curve
on her broken soul.
Tell me that
the winds will break
and give her a second to inhale.
The world is such a cold
and unforgiving paragraph
running longer than bearably feasible
the road is ending
and I don't know if she
can break before the
collision of all seeing
emotions that swirl
through her entire
fragile existence.
We were not made to love
as powerfully as she can.
A gift to the world around her
but taking tolls on
her long forgotten sanity.
Innocence that was
taken advantage of
from small minds that
only know of self affil
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 2
Untitled by Poproflwaffle Untitled :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 0 0
Literature
Insecurities
Blood stained fingers
Dripping down and into intricate pieces
Of puzzles shaping memories
Painfully placed in corners
Of darkness that wraps throughout her mind.
Her thoughts are fragile
Delicate yet firm
A series of chaotic beauty staining
Every inch of her being
Her spirit lost in the labyrinth
Of self destruction and persecution.
Every day is fearful determination
Leading her nowhere.
Scarred skin telling stories
No one wanted to get to in the first place.
Fingers follow each ripple
Every line a curse in her head,
Proof that the strongest warriors
Have vulnerabilities.
Mirrored rooms mocking every insecurity.
I wish I could wake up without
Cursing every breath I have to inhale.
I wish I could see myself in another light
An angle that might make me look pretty.
I wish I was important enough
To make people want to be around me.
I wish I was smart enough
To be important one day.
I wish I didn’t have to look into the mirror
And see every god damned problem I have
With every inch o
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 0 0
Judging by Poproflwaffle
Mature content
Judging :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 2 1
Literature
Idealists
Soft hearts with
Soft minds hold
Soft hands to dig
Soft graves.
Soft hearts
Born into nothing
Bursting from burning ashes
And breathing numb air
Glass eyes
Staring at emptiness
Surrounding clouded minds
Moving for one purpose
One plan
One existence.
Never questioning
Never asking
Isn't there more?
What's my true potential?
Soft minds
Bowing for lesser
And never knowing better.
We were made to be
Visionaries
Leaders
A resistant stone
In a raging river.
Forged from fire
Bent and broken
In existential waters
To be more than we've
Allowed our minds to
Comprehend existence that is
Far beyond our comprehension
Yet we feeble and meek
Fall short of grand dreams to
Explore beyond the earth we
Are so confined to.
Blindly, we have barred ourselves
To something so simple because
Working towards a higher breath of
Fresh air is
Too impossible to reach.
Soft heart and
Soft mind we
Sit cowering in the known
Only to dream of
Knowing the unknown
If only we would
Push forth with heartfelt efforts
To real
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0
Free by Poproflwaffle
Mature content
Free :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 5 2
Untitled-8657 by Poproflwaffle
Mature content
Untitled-8657 :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 12 6
Untitled-0596 by Poproflwaffle
Mature content
Untitled-0596 :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 8 0
expectant by Poproflwaffle expectant :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0 Untitled-8448 by Poproflwaffle Untitled-8448 :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 3 0 Untitled-8310-2 by Poproflwaffle Untitled-8310-2 :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0 Untitled-8313-2 by Poproflwaffle Untitled-8313-2 :iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 2 3
Literature
Colors
I remember sitting
in preschool
learning my colors.
Blue for the sky.
Red for fire.
black for the night sky.
white for the clouds.
Blue
for the bruises
transfixed 
on my legs and arms.
for the tears 
Escaping my eyes
And onto the pages
Of life battered by pain and anger.
red
for the blood 
running out of my arm
and onto the ground
like a river.
The color of anger
That emits from their faces.
black
for the darkness 
that I try to hide in.
The color of my pupils 
searching for light
in life.
white
for the shade
of my fingers
wrapped firmly around the knife
awaiting the pain
of realization 
that I'm alive.
I remember sitting
in preschool
learning about my colors.
I wish I was a preschooler again
and not have to worry
about anything
except learning my colors.
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0
Literature
Silent Screams
Silent screams
come from soft spoken winds
Pushing forth with quiet efforts
To make waves.
My lungs weave silent
ties of string
that twine around throat
and out mouths, 
only to come out
sharp as knives
stabbing at darkness.
My eyes have been
twisted back
so that I am blinded.
Backed into corners.
Don't touch me
you foul bastard of light
that dares threaten
my stance in this house.
How dare you utter those 
hideous words
that do nothing
but show how horrible you are.
How dare you twist her thoughts
so that in the end
she hates the one thing
that was good to her, 
the one person
that was her beautiful possession.
We were a team, 
her and I.
A beautiful duet
that would never fall,
never skip a beat
or hasten a tempo.
We were dancing between lines 
and notes
as if the world
would end tomorrow.
but now our world has crumbled,
smashed by the pounding of boot
and your words.
And somehow,
we're tearing each other apart.
We somehow
don't care about each other,
or ourse
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0
Literature
Fear
Not much love 
to go around
makes this girl
start to frown.
Her tears always fall
one by one
as she cowers
till life is done.
Beaten, torn, 
bruised and scarred
this little girl 
is always barred.
Counting wishes
two by two,
oh why'd this happen,
to me, not you?
Bottles tower
over head
she's loosing focus,
too much to dread.
Silent whispers
fill her ears
unwanted visitors
too many fears.
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0
Literature
Screaming
The music plays
as life rolls on 
this boring
blank page of
land that hangs on every
word that is written on every
mountain top.
The wind is so still as we
breath in melodies of
the nothingness in between
each rupture of pain
in between beats of your heart.
Oh how we forget the pain
the interruptions we cause the 
rhythm of each beat
as we cut 
beautiful paintings into 
the skin of each prairie, 
each breath being torn apart
as we rip the seams back
just to see
who we are again.
just to make sure we haven't changed
and we stay 
that way 
forever.
Her locks are tightly
holding her down in place
as she
sits in the room all alone.
Her screams keep her
sane at night
and are the only things that are
keeping her company.
Tears fall like a storm, 
hurricanes rolling into land
without warning.
She holds as long as she can
but her smile will break
like the waves to land.
They crash through, 
breaking all foundations
until there aren't anymore.
Becaus
:iconPoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle
:iconpoproflwaffle:Poproflwaffle 1 0

Watchers

Activity


  • Listening to: The AC
  • Playing: my phone
  • Drinking: water

 No one ever tells you that the hardest thing is picking yourself up when you fall down. And I'm not talking about a scratch on your knee and scrapes on your elbows. I'm talking about deep seeded trauma in your head constantly causing you to battle with every insecurity you have leaving you to resort to hiding under the covers as if they will comfort you into submissive happiness. I'm talking about every tear streaked night alone pondering if you want to wake up in the morning or forever slipping into a slumber that never ends.

At the end of the night, no matter what painful battles you conquer, the morning always forces its way into your life. The next day always skids through like a giant elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about. And if I told you that I was writing an essay to teach you how to overcome this obstacle, I'd be a liar. I am simply explaining how even I struggle, and I want to put you in perspective on how every day can be a chore to exist.

You ever have that moment in your life, where you look at someone or watch a couple or a group of friends and think “man it would be so easy to just be them.”? Or wish that you were on a level or normality like they outwardly appear to be that it almost brings about pain and distraught in your own head? And then you start to over think what you're telling yourself, explaining that you have no idea what they go through outside the mask they put on in public. But you can't get that image of how they act around others out of your head that it sticks so vividly and profoundly that you start to almost make yourself sick? Because the grass is always greener, and giving up on your own struggles to reevaluate yourself and your life seem so much easier than actually standing your ground to meet your trifles face first.

I remember, the first time I actually told myself that I hated myself, and that I was a pathetic piece of shit (of sorts) was when I was in the 2nd grade. I was at a birthday party, and I had such immense hyperactivity in me that most parents of my friends didn't know how to handle it. And I wasn't the most popular girl in the school by any means, but living in a small town it was rude to exclude one person when you invite everyone else. So I was only invited as a sign of false politeness. But when I would go to the parties, because I would get so excited that I was simply acknowledged into a group of people, the parents would hand me some cake and pull a table into the corner of the room and tell me to observe until I calmed down. Of course I couldn't calm down. And I didn't think anything of it when I was in that moment, because as an excluded child, being “accepted” in any manner was invigorating. But the more I thought about it as I grew older and my mind could see past idle “acceptance”, it began to dwell in my whole being and made me realize that in reality, I wasn't “wanted”. Or so I thought that was the case.

No one wants to swallow the reality of their disposition in themselves. No one wants to accept their flaws that they see every waking moment they stand in front of a mirror. But for me, every flaw, every imperfection stands out so profusely that it makes me sick. And this, my friends, is where I start to do the typical explanation on how I try to overcome it. For me, as an empath, am constantly overcome and overrun by such strong emotions of everyone around me that I can't even comprehend my own mindset and emotional standing, so getting out of bed and swallowing the every looming doom I cage in the back of my mind is such a task in itself that sometimes, it takes me all day just to accomplish showering.

So before I give the explanation on how I accomplish such tragic struggles, I want to start by telling you my diagnostic imperfections. I have major depression with disabling panic attacks linked to sufficient PTSD. I also have emotional self image disassociation. Patience with anorexia often suffer from body image disassociation, mine deals with how I view myself as a whole and as a person. Its a personified and unrealistic outlook on how I view the world in a psychological and emotional sense. I view myself as a terrible person, an nonintellectual waste of space that is simply put here to suck air and exist. I probably have body image disassociation as well, but that would be tied into the whole emotional self image disassociation.  

Every day one at a time is a complete understatement. For me, I try to take every hour at a time and sometimes that can be completely overwhelming. I have some pretty unsettling and unhealthy ways to handle the stress, but most are too profound and shameful to really explain and admit at the moment. Most people don't enjoy looking at physical scarring because it brings about the complete impact it has on someones mental well-being to be able to human sufficiently. But I simply breathe. I distract myself with a task or hobby that sometimes I even have to force myself to accomplish. Easier said than done, I know, but when you stop taking days at a time and start taking moments at a time it gets truly easier.  

I'm not saying that you will get over whatever life obstacles smack you in the face, but I'm saying that picking yourself up and brushing off the dust is the biggest act of courage and strength you can instill in yourself. Accepting that you are here and put here for whatever reason to impact anyone in your life in any way is a way to find an inkling of self worth. You never know when your smile alone can save one person from finally giving in to destruction around them and getting up themselves. Because digging yourself in that hole alone where you feel the only ladder out is to finally end it can be so exhausting that you find yourself getting in a loop.  

No one is perfect. Those people you envision in your head or you observe from afar have their own struggle and problems they deal with in their own battlegrounds. Context is always the smartest strategy to look at because you never know when the anti-hero ends up being the hero. Living is a terrifying, painstakingly beautiful thing that everyone portrays differently. Everyone has impacts that they never even realize until it's too late and everyone is huddling in a room explaining how that person impacted them and how they will never be impacted like that again. Your struggles are real, they are authentic, and they are unoriginal. They are yours. And sometimes finding a shoulder to lean on or a friend to break down on is important. Because I understand that trying to overcome battles alone is harder than accepting help. And acceptance is courage. So be courageous.

Weak fingers stretch out
grasping at idealistic sorrow that
only exists in fabricated
thoughts
dreams
aspirations
that dried out long ago
shallow breaths skipping
like stones
through time that is borrowed
and running out.
Tell me stories of
how your heart flutters
at the passing of time
inhaling the essence of her skin.
Tell me epics
from the lights that flutter
throughout the oceans of her irises.
Tell me tales
of every scar stained ridge
caressing every curve
on her broken soul.
Tell me that
the winds will break
and give her a second to inhale.
The world is such a cold
and unforgiving paragraph
running longer than bearably feasible
the road is ending
and I don't know if she
can break before the
collision of all seeing
emotions that swirl
through her entire
fragile existence.
We were not made to love
as powerfully as she can.
A gift to the world around her
but taking tolls on
her long forgotten sanity.
Innocence that was
taken advantage of
from small minds that
only know of self affiliation.
Self affliction of
pain and blood stained tears that
fall in vain
only to portray
the beauty hidden
in her simple design.
Tell me how
she has the whole world at her feet
yet she's walking in too many
circles that are bound for
disastrous destinations.
Tell me how she
won't go forgotten.
She will cling to
every wall in your brain
as you dream of
sun filled rooms that
bore inspiration
deep in the womb of
admiration
soft dedication.
Her eyes grow
too heavy to hold open
and too
painful to
squint at mysterious
figures in her past.
Her shoulders are
buckling under
thunderous storms that
cloud her purest of sunlight.
Tell me how authentic
real
simple
needed
she was.
Because as these fingers grow
thin and frail
and as these breaths are
shallow and nonrhythmic.
As this blood runs thin
and the numbing sensation of
unforgivable eternal slumber
creeps through her shaken spirit
know that she told stories
from the fragrance on her skin.
She told epics
from lights that flutter
through the oceans of her irises.
She told tales
from the scar stained ridges
of every curve caressing
her unbecoming broken soul.
But every story comes to an end.
Every epic has a conclusion.
And every tale has a lesson.
Blood stained fingers
Dripping down and into intricate pieces
Of puzzles shaping memories
Painfully placed in corners
Of darkness that wraps throughout her mind.
Her thoughts are fragile
Delicate yet firm
A series of chaotic beauty staining
Every inch of her being
Her spirit lost in the labyrinth
Of self destruction and persecution.
Every day is fearful determination
Leading her nowhere.
Scarred skin telling stories
No one wanted to get to in the first place.
Fingers follow each ripple
Every line a curse in her head,
Proof that the strongest warriors
Have vulnerabilities.
Mirrored rooms mocking every insecurity.
I wish I could wake up without
Cursing every breath I have to inhale.
I wish I could see myself in another light
An angle that might make me look pretty.
I wish I was important enough
To make people want to be around me.
I wish I was smart enough
To be important one day.
I wish I didn’t have to look into the mirror
And see every god damned problem I have
With every inch of my being.
I wish I didn’t lash out at myself
For problems I create in my head
Every tear stained night
Every scream echoing into darkness.
I don’t understand why it hurts so much
Just to exist
Like every time I blink
It feels like 100 lbs crushing on my chest.
Every thought I have I always
Second guess
Re-adress
And throw out.
I'm clutching at straws just to
Get out of bed in the morning
And put on that damn mask I
Hide behind.
I wish I was someone.
I wish I was anyone
Anything
But myself.
Because these reflections are haunting
And I'm drowning in a
Sea of insecurities
That I can't swim out of.
Swallowed by doubt and self hate that
I don't even understand.
The blade is getting dull from
Self harming addictions.
Because feeling pain seems to be
The only true friend I hold dear.
I'm going to build a box from my self doubt
And dig a hole with
6 feet of agonizing self scrutiny.
Bury underneath fake confidence
And fade away into nothingness
Because nothingness is my home,
A blanket I've grown fond of.
Acceptance of fate
That has blossomed into
A panicked rage.
I wish I had the balls
To end the suffering.
Dry up the sea of insecurities
And leave these pages of
Scar tissue and tears
For the next person to read.

deviantID

Poproflwaffle's Profile Picture
Poproflwaffle
Tasha
United States
i has red hair en green eyes en pale ass skin ^ ^

Also, I <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 video games. I cannot live without them! seriously, I go through withdrawals and start foaming at the mouth!

I like taking pictures. I also like modeling. I'm stuck in the middle. I'm too shy to ask people to take photos of me, and am also to shy to ask to take pictures of other people. so I usually stick to myself or landscape/nature. Baby steps I suppose.

Favourite genre of music: any really
Operating System: Joe 2014
MP3 player of choice: Pandora
Shell of choice: one that sounds like the ocean
Skin of choice: my skin
Favourite cartoon character: gir!!!! <3 :3
Personal Quote: fuck it, just have a beer.
Interests
  • Listening to: The AC
  • Playing: my phone
  • Drinking: water

 No one ever tells you that the hardest thing is picking yourself up when you fall down. And I'm not talking about a scratch on your knee and scrapes on your elbows. I'm talking about deep seeded trauma in your head constantly causing you to battle with every insecurity you have leaving you to resort to hiding under the covers as if they will comfort you into submissive happiness. I'm talking about every tear streaked night alone pondering if you want to wake up in the morning or forever slipping into a slumber that never ends.

At the end of the night, no matter what painful battles you conquer, the morning always forces its way into your life. The next day always skids through like a giant elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about. And if I told you that I was writing an essay to teach you how to overcome this obstacle, I'd be a liar. I am simply explaining how even I struggle, and I want to put you in perspective on how every day can be a chore to exist.

You ever have that moment in your life, where you look at someone or watch a couple or a group of friends and think “man it would be so easy to just be them.”? Or wish that you were on a level or normality like they outwardly appear to be that it almost brings about pain and distraught in your own head? And then you start to over think what you're telling yourself, explaining that you have no idea what they go through outside the mask they put on in public. But you can't get that image of how they act around others out of your head that it sticks so vividly and profoundly that you start to almost make yourself sick? Because the grass is always greener, and giving up on your own struggles to reevaluate yourself and your life seem so much easier than actually standing your ground to meet your trifles face first.

I remember, the first time I actually told myself that I hated myself, and that I was a pathetic piece of shit (of sorts) was when I was in the 2nd grade. I was at a birthday party, and I had such immense hyperactivity in me that most parents of my friends didn't know how to handle it. And I wasn't the most popular girl in the school by any means, but living in a small town it was rude to exclude one person when you invite everyone else. So I was only invited as a sign of false politeness. But when I would go to the parties, because I would get so excited that I was simply acknowledged into a group of people, the parents would hand me some cake and pull a table into the corner of the room and tell me to observe until I calmed down. Of course I couldn't calm down. And I didn't think anything of it when I was in that moment, because as an excluded child, being “accepted” in any manner was invigorating. But the more I thought about it as I grew older and my mind could see past idle “acceptance”, it began to dwell in my whole being and made me realize that in reality, I wasn't “wanted”. Or so I thought that was the case.

No one wants to swallow the reality of their disposition in themselves. No one wants to accept their flaws that they see every waking moment they stand in front of a mirror. But for me, every flaw, every imperfection stands out so profusely that it makes me sick. And this, my friends, is where I start to do the typical explanation on how I try to overcome it. For me, as an empath, am constantly overcome and overrun by such strong emotions of everyone around me that I can't even comprehend my own mindset and emotional standing, so getting out of bed and swallowing the every looming doom I cage in the back of my mind is such a task in itself that sometimes, it takes me all day just to accomplish showering.

So before I give the explanation on how I accomplish such tragic struggles, I want to start by telling you my diagnostic imperfections. I have major depression with disabling panic attacks linked to sufficient PTSD. I also have emotional self image disassociation. Patience with anorexia often suffer from body image disassociation, mine deals with how I view myself as a whole and as a person. Its a personified and unrealistic outlook on how I view the world in a psychological and emotional sense. I view myself as a terrible person, an nonintellectual waste of space that is simply put here to suck air and exist. I probably have body image disassociation as well, but that would be tied into the whole emotional self image disassociation.  

Every day one at a time is a complete understatement. For me, I try to take every hour at a time and sometimes that can be completely overwhelming. I have some pretty unsettling and unhealthy ways to handle the stress, but most are too profound and shameful to really explain and admit at the moment. Most people don't enjoy looking at physical scarring because it brings about the complete impact it has on someones mental well-being to be able to human sufficiently. But I simply breathe. I distract myself with a task or hobby that sometimes I even have to force myself to accomplish. Easier said than done, I know, but when you stop taking days at a time and start taking moments at a time it gets truly easier.  

I'm not saying that you will get over whatever life obstacles smack you in the face, but I'm saying that picking yourself up and brushing off the dust is the biggest act of courage and strength you can instill in yourself. Accepting that you are here and put here for whatever reason to impact anyone in your life in any way is a way to find an inkling of self worth. You never know when your smile alone can save one person from finally giving in to destruction around them and getting up themselves. Because digging yourself in that hole alone where you feel the only ladder out is to finally end it can be so exhausting that you find yourself getting in a loop.  

No one is perfect. Those people you envision in your head or you observe from afar have their own struggle and problems they deal with in their own battlegrounds. Context is always the smartest strategy to look at because you never know when the anti-hero ends up being the hero. Living is a terrifying, painstakingly beautiful thing that everyone portrays differently. Everyone has impacts that they never even realize until it's too late and everyone is huddling in a room explaining how that person impacted them and how they will never be impacted like that again. Your struggles are real, they are authentic, and they are unoriginal. They are yours. And sometimes finding a shoulder to lean on or a friend to break down on is important. Because I understand that trying to overcome battles alone is harder than accepting help. And acceptance is courage. So be courageous.

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:icon74-giatrus:
74-Giatrus Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2017
Wow your photos are gorgeous, so sexy.
Send Me Your art, is excellent.
sexy-r3volution.deviantart.com
Invite to join... sexy-r3volution.deviantart.com
Reply
:iconpop-rocks-pikachu:
Pop-Rocks-Pikachu Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2014
How about a few pictures of the soles of your bare feet?
Reply
:iconzielony25:
zielony25 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013
Happy birthday!!!
Reply
:iconprincevlad39:
princevlad39 Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2013
:cake: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :party:
Reply
:iconjonnyeklund:
JonnyEklund Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for adding [link] to your favīs
Reply
:icondesiraesalazar:
DesiraeSalazar Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the fav Tasha :)
Reply
:iconprincevlad39:
princevlad39 Featured By Owner Jun 12, 2012
where are you?
Reply
:iconpoproflwaffle:
Poproflwaffle Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2013
I am back. I've been away tooooo long!
Reply
:iconprincevlad39:
princevlad39 Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2013
yay! can't wait to see some pics!! :heart:
Reply
:iconvinroc:
VinRoc Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2011  Professional Digital Artist
Happy Birthday!!
Reply
Add a Comment: